"Not as if she were curious, you know, but as if she were
interested--attracted. Can you imagine the expression?"
Leaver leaned his head back against the apple-tree trunk, and closed his
eyes. The spice-pink, still held at his nostrils, shielded his lips. He
looked rather white, his nurse noticed, but she had become accustomed to
seeing these moments come upon him--they passed away again, and Dr. Burns
had said that no notice need be taken of them unless they were long in
passing. In spite of his pallor, he spoke naturally enough.
"Yes, I have seen such a face. But many women--Southern women,
especially--have that look of being absorbed in what one is saying; it is
a pretty trick of theirs. Won't you sit down, too, on this old bench? It
is so warm yet, we may as well rest a little and walk when it is dusk and
cooler."
She sat down beside him, a pleasant picture to look at in her white lawn
in which, at Ellen's suggestion, she now made of herself, in the
afternoons, a figure less severe than in her uniform. She had even added
a touch of turquoise to the chaste whiteness of the dress, a colour which
brought out the beauty of her deep blue eyes and fair cheeks and even
lent warmth to the pale hues of her hair.
"If you want to sit here, Dr. Leaver, I might run across and bring the
book we are reading.
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